


The Deaf Leading the Blind

by blackberrywidow



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clueless Steve Rogers, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff and Crack, Human Disaster Clint Barton, M/M, just a couple of idiots doing what idiots do, there is no real plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-22 22:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16607024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberrywidow/pseuds/blackberrywidow
Summary: In which Steve confesses his feelings for Tony to Clint, not realizing he can’t hear a damn thing he’s saying.





	The Deaf Leading the Blind

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short crack fic based on a Tumblr post that you can find here if you're curious: https://ironmanarmor.tumblr.com/post/180040692295/someone-write-a-fic-where-steve-spills-his-heart.

“Uh, Clint… Can I talk to you for a second?”

 

Steve was… uncomfortable, to say the least; but his desperation outweighed any discomfort he was feeling. He wouldn’t be there, looking for advice in the lowest of places, otherwise.

 

Not that Clint was a _bad_ advice giver, per se. He just wasn’t… very good at it. But out of all of the Avengers, Steve knew Clint would be the one most likely to give it to him straight without any gloating or the possibility of their conversation reaching a certain someone. He was, of course, expecting some teasing and a generally superior attitude during their little talk, but it was a far cry from Natasha’s conniving smile or Thor’s loud insistence that he “follow his heart.” It was a side effect that he could live with, given it led to some sort of decision.

 

Clint, though not an ideal person to spill one’s deepest secrets too, was the lesser evil in this situation. If only he were paying attention to him.

 

Steve’s brow furrowed as Clint continued to wolf down his sandwich, blissfully unaware that Steve was even in the room apparently. If the topic was any less important, Steve would have simply walked away and given the two—Clint and his foot-long meatball sub—some privacy. But unfortunately, this conversation had already waited long enough.

 

So, Steve did what he did best and persisted, clearing his throat and walking further into the kitchen, coming to a stop at the table Clint was sitting at. “Clint,” Steve repeated, voice raising an octave as he took a seat across from him. “I asked if I could talk to you.”

 

Wide, panicked blue eyes rose to meet his own, sandwich still partway in his mouth. After a moment of rapid blinking and a general deer-in-headlights impression, Clint hurriedly chomped down on his sandwich, managing to get out a muffled “yeah” as he chewed.

 

_Okay then… here goes nothing._

 

“Well, you may have noticed that I uh… Well that I’ve been a bit distracted lately, I guess,” Steve began, deciding to just dive right in and get this over with. He paused to glance up from where he had been nervously scratching his thumbnail into the wood of the table to see the archer’s reaction though, hoping for some kind of encouragement. The moment he caught Clint’s eyes, the other blonde nodded exuberantly.

 

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, the words coming out too loud in the quiet of the kitchen now that his mouth wasn’t crammed full of food.

 

Steve couldn’t help but frown. He had hoped that it wasn’t that obvious but… if Clint of all people had picked up on it so easily, he must have been worse than the thought.

 

“Oh. Well, okay then. So, you know what I’m talking about?”

 

Clint hesitated, that wide-eyed, stricken look returning as he slowly nodded, cautiously taking another bite of his sandwich but saying nothing more.

 

“Okay,” Steve continued, clearing his suddenly dry throat. “I’ll just cut right to the chase then. I’m worried that my feelings for Tony are beginning to affect my work on the team. It was fine when it was just a harmless crush, but things are… different now. You know what I mean?”

 

He paused again, looking up at his friend with beseeching eyes, hoping that he was making sense. He couldn’t think straight half the time when it came to Tony, which was roughly 90% of his current problem. So, he was relieved when Clint replied with a bright “Yup” after only a moment’s pause.

 

Maybe he wasn’t so clueless after all.

 

“Right? It’s like… sometimes I’m _sure_ that he knows how I feel. I mean, you’ve seen the way he flirts with me. It’s ‘Captain Handsome’ this and ‘it would be my patriotic duty as an American to buy you dinner’ that. But he’s like that with everyone, isn’t he?”

 

Steve’s stomach dropped a little when Clint affirmed this statement as well, but it wasn’t unexpected. At least he _was_ being honest with him. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. But sometimes it feels different than others. Like when he rescued me back in Bosnia last month. There was just… I don’t know how to describe it. Some kind of _pull_ and instead of giving in, he pulled away instead. We’ve been kind of distant ever since and it’s _killing_ me Clint. He may not return my feelings, but I wish that he’d at least return my calls for Christ’s sake.”

 

He took a moment to collect himself, realizing that he was become perhaps too heated, too loud for what was supposed to be a _calm_ discussion of feelings. But Clint urged him on, giving him a sharp nod and a boisterous, “Yeah.”

 

“Yeah! I mean, what we do is dangerous. I don’t have time to beat around the bush or allow whatever it is we have distract me. But how can I stop it? I mean… Tony is everything to me here Clint. After the war, after everyone I knew _died_ while I took the world’s longest nap, I… I just don’t have anything else. At least, nothing like Tony. He’s…” Steve paused, struggling to find the words to explain the way Tony’s existence simultaneously tore his heart of his chest and stitched it back together, but Clint’s encouraging nod pushed him to push through it. “He’s just Tony. That’s the only way to describe him. Because only Tony can be so egotistical, rash, and clueless while also being the most gifted, intelligent, brave, selfless, _caring_ person I know. He’s like a walking contradiction, and he should be the last person I love but _I do_.”

 

Steve stopped short, choking on his next words before they could leave his mouth. Nothing else mattered after that.

 

His were eyes wide as they flashed up to Clint’s equally bewildered expression. “Oh my god,” he breathed, as the words settled in his heart moments after they had left his mouth, reaffirming the truth in them. “I love Tony Stark.”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Clint responded, looking at him as though he had no idea what he was getting at.

 

Steve supposed he was right. He loved Tony, so why was he sitting here talking to Clint when he should be talking to _Tony_?

 

Screw his fear of rejection and his doubts about his ability to have a successful relationship with Tony. He loved him—cared for him more deeply than anyone else on this planet—so why waste any more time being afraid? He stood up in the face of fear every day, why should this be any different?

 

Well, the obvious answer was that he was risking his friendship with Tony if he approached him with his feelings and they weren’t returned. But he also risked a lifetime of unhappiness and regret if he _didn’t_.

 

The choice was so obvious now, because just as Clint seemed to believe, there really _wasn’t_ one.

 

“Thanks Clint,” Steve said, rushing to stand from the kitchen. “You’re a great listener. If everything goes well, I’ll really owe you one.”

 

And with that, he was rushing out of the kitchen, off to find Tony and confess his love to him. He could only hope it was the right decision, but he was through with sitting around and doing nothing regardless. He had always been a man of action—it was time to prove it.

 

Clint watched him go, slowly chewing the last bite of his sandwich in silence. He didn’t even notice that Natasha had practically danced into the room after Steve left until she threw box at him.

 

“Ow!” he hissed, clutching his head and bending to pick up the box. However, his mood brightened considerably when he realized what they were. “Oh, thank God.” He rushed to take his hearing aids out of the box and put them on to spare himself further trouble.

 

“Did you lose something again?” Natasha chuckled, smirking at him as she plopped down in Steve’s now vacant seat.

 

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, voice back down to a normal volume as he smiled at his best friend. “Thanks, Nat.”

 

“No problem,” she sighed, sounding strangely happy as she continued to smile at him like the Cheshire Cat. It was… unsettling to say the least.

 

“What? Do I have food on my face or something?”

 

“No.” Nat rolled her eyes, voice losing some of its dreamlike quality now. “You didn’t catch any of that, did you?”

 

“Oh, you mean Steve? Nah. Couldn’t hear a thing, obviously, but he was talkin’ so damn fast I didn’t even try to read his lips. Why? Did I fuck it up that bad? I couldn’t tell why he ran off so suddenly.”

 

Natasha, petite, graceful ballerina assassin Natasha actually _snorted_. “No, Clint. Though, a word of advice? When Steve comes back up here grinning like the biggest idiot on the planet, just take all the credit you can.”

 

“What? Why?” Clint asked, cocking his head to the side and raising a brow. “What did I do?”  
  


“Oh,” Natasha purred, grin impossibly widening, making Clint extremely suspicious and slightly afraid. “You’ll see. Everything’s finally working out, just two years later than we had hoped.”

 

Clint, though he didn’t know what it was they had been hoping for, decided to take Natasha’s word for it and simply shrugged. As long as Steve never found out he had had an entire conversation with him without hearing a thing he said, he didn’t care. 


End file.
